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Chapter 1 - Old Grudges Rekindled (AKE)
The archaic, acrid odour of brimstone hung in the air, the unmistakable musk of it permeating through toward Tubba’s nostrils. The red lava of the Koopa Kingdom sloshed ominously, the viscous lavafalls ringing around the circular valley that was the Koopan stronghold, the Koopa Castle looming on the horizon. Once known as Bowser’s Castle, the less familiar name Ludwig’s Castle had not caught on, despite the two year reign of the current King. The pools of orange light, caused by the oceans of lava around the narrow path toward the Castle, burned into Tubba’s eyes as he made his way down the slope, careful not to slip off the path. Tubba paused on a rock, resting his well muscled right leg on top of it, leaning down on top of his knee and crossing his arms, overlooking the Castle of the enemy he had battled so hard against to reclaim the Clubba Kingdom from. He breathed deeply, ignoring the stinging brimstone odour against his nostrils, being beset from the memories of that time, the pure elation, the visceral pride, the happiness of reclaiming the throne for the Clubbas. He had been thirty then, and now he was still thirty. Not even a year had passed since the Clubbas had reclaimed their Kingdom and Tubba had been coronated as their King. Yet, Tubba of 2022 and Tubba of 2023 were very different. Shortly before reclaiming the Clubban throne, he was diagnosed with an unnamed, terminal disease. It would cut short his life - be it tomorrow, be it five years, be it thirty years. It had not taken him yet, but it was beginning to show by his accelerated, with his dulling scales, his greying hair, his stiff limbs. Tubba was not the strong, young Clubba he was just a few weeks ago. He was approaching middle age with a vengeance, and he was unlikely to live to even fifty. Still, even as his shape grew older and his abilities weaker, Tubba’s frame still belied the strong fighter he was in his youth. Tubba was still looked to as a premier leader in battle, as a Clubba who had found a way to maximize his battling potential, but now, looking up the frailer, red-scaled body, to the crudely sliced tail hanging behind, the white belly scales nicked and replaced with much less lustrous ones, Tubba painted a picture of a fading giant. Yet, beyond the dulling, black eyes, a spark still remained. The spark of a King and his duty to his people. It did not matter that his lips were wrinkling, that his knuckles ached when he picked up his club, that his pitiful half a tail was unable to properly balance him in battle. He was a King. “Are you sure that Ludwig hasn’t got anything nefarious planned?” Tubba’s voice had not changed, the deep, powerful, booming voice he had always possessed. He directed his question to his most loyal advisor, and his Commander of the Armies, Paralus Clubbith. Paralus was just twenty-two when they reclaimed the Kingdom, a little unsure of his place as a leader among Clubbas. Tubba was highly satisfied with his choice of Paralus as the Commander of the Armies, for as the weeks ticked on, Paralus grew into the role, his orange-scaled, burly and hulking body becoming one of the most respected in the Clubba Kingdom. Whenever he spoke with his commanding, inspiring, gruff, voice, Clubbas stood up and listened. What Tubba was less satisfied with was his Commander’s choice of a mate. Although he had elected to bury the hatchet with his half-sister, legally defining her as part of the Clubba Blubba ruling house of Gusty Gulch, what she had always wanted. Clubbette was the daughter of Tubba’s father and a commoner Clubba, aptly named Clubbette, after Tubba’s own mother had died two years prior. This was not permitted under the Clubban customs, invalidating Clubbette of any status and forcing her to live the early years of her life in the Waffle Kingdom, brooding a deep sense of resentment. After double crossing Tubba countless times, Paralus seemed to instill sense into Tubba’s half-sister, as she declared her support for the Clubbas and Tubba’s Kingship at the last possible moment - just before the Second Battle of Gusty Gulch. It proved to be a wise decision, as now Clubbette was expecting, with their child set to become first in line for the throne. Of course, said offspring would be pushed further down the line of succession should Tubba ever produce an heir. Heir. Tubba shook himself; he was very unlikely to produce an heir to his throne. He was glad that Clubbette and Paralus had ensured that there would be a next-generation heir for his throne, for he was fearful of the Clubban throne passing into the hands of his twin, and current owner of the Glitz Pit, Chubba, who he had never seen eye to eye with. “Tubba, I’ve triple-checked everything,” Paralus breathed heavily through his nostrils, as he had had this discussion with Tubba previously. “Ludwig’s sent the majority of his troops to his Southern Keep like we asked, so we’re not too outnumbered here.” The Clubba Kingdom had brought a force of five hundred Clubbas strong into the heart of the Koopa Kingdom, with Tubba at it’s head. “We’ve also got the worst-case scenarios in place. Should we both perish, Clubbette will serve as regent until our offspring is born, and that offspring will take the throne.” Paralus clenched his large orange fist, his orange eyes blazing with flames. “But I’ve triple-checked, quadruple-checked and quintuple-checked. We are fine.” “Easy, Paralus,” Tubba stepped off the rock and took a step toward his Commander, understanding his frustration, but annoyed all the same. “It’s not even been a year since we defeated the Koopas in Gusty Gulch. I think I have a right to be careful.” “You’re right,” Paralus slackened his tense posture. “Sorry, Tubba,” the orange Clubba apologized to his friend. “I suppose I’m just a bit eager to prove that I’m a worthy Commander.” Paralus crossed his arms in front of his thick-scaled belly, club in hand. “After all, the last Commander was Clubbar.” Paralus named Tubba’s mentor as a young Clubba, the Commander of Tubba’s father. Clubbar had died with the Clubba Kingdom in the Koopa’s hands, a regret Tubba carried with him - he had not allowed his father’s best friend to die with Gusty Gulch in the Clubba’s rightful hands. “Let’s hope that whatever Ludwig has planned doesn’t require your copious amounts of skill,” Tubba deadpanned, only half-joking. Ludwig had invited the main representatives of the Clubbas, the Mushrooms, the Beans, the Waffles, the Kremling Islands, who were finally beginning to formalize into a Kingdom under Tubba’s friend, Skiles Kremstag. “Since... I don’t trust Ludwig.” As the Clubba contingent made it’s way down towards the Koopa Castle, Tubba reflected on his paranoia. Ludwig was a genius - there was no doubt about it, and he didn’t like having to come to the Koopa Castle. Under Bowser, you understood that you were going to get an unfair shake - but Bowser would be direct with you in his reasoning. Ludwig, the thirty-three year old Koopan King, was much different from his father, as he would say one thing and do another, his own, scheming plan in the background. It seemed like Tubba’s paranoia was misplaced. Through the intolerable musk of brimstone, Ludwig, accompanied by only his senior advisor, Kamek, arrived to greet them. The tall, hulking shape of the Koopa King, the bulging muscles reminiscent of his late father, seemed to project a body language that was relaxed and at ease. His battle-scarred, yellow-scaled face glinted eerily in the orange lavalight, and it was with satisfaction that Tubba noticed a slight, circular healed contusion below the Koopa King’s chin, just on his neck. Tubba hoisted his body back onto the ruined balcony, broken stones strewn around his feet, Ludwig’s bloodstained head dazed from the blow to it from Tubba’s club. He attempted to stagger to his feet, but Tubba was quicker. Shooting out his bloodied, aching fingers, he grabbed the Koopa King by the neck, and used all the force he had been born with to lift him to the sky, hearing the thunderous cheers below. Aware that he was holding Ludwig’s neck tightly with his fist, he growled, “you surrender?” Choking around his fist, the Koopa King managed to sputter out, his eyes glowing with defiance, but no other option in sight, “I surrender unconditionally.” Over the cheers, Tubba threw his adversary back to the ground, glaring as Ludwig felt his neck. To Tubba’s satisfaction, a big, red bruise was welling up on Ludwig’s neck. Tubba smirked. He could tell by the fire in Ludwig’s eyes as he saw him - Ludwig remembered too. Whatever Ludwig would say, whatever Ludwig would do... as Tubba moved to shake his hand, he knew... the old grudge was rekindled.